If I'd Seen You First
by husedyes
Summary: If Syed had returned to the Square post-reveal not just to reconcile with his family, but also with Christian – Syed's POV, allow for poetic license re: Syed or this fic would be bloody miserable.
1. Chapter 1

_To get us through this gloomy black hole. Salutes WFCTGIO. Enjoy._

* * *

I'm stood at his door trembling. I had intended to go straight home but, well, this home called out to me too. I had been angry, so angry at Christian all this time I'd been away. I couldn't fathom how he could justify his actions that night. He was like a tornado sweeping through my life, my heart – destruction at its worst. But I couldn't walk past his door and now that I'm here, all the anger has melted. I don't know how long has passed but I can't find the courage to ring his bell.

I hear footsteps, the latch... the door opens. I'm not ready! Christian!

But no, what's happened to his face? I'm shell-shocked, so is he. He's looking at me, surprise mixed with melancholy in his eyes. He looks more unsure with every split-second that passes. I need to reassure him but I can't speak.

"Christian," I mouth, but it's just air. He's noted my intention though.

"Sy. I..."

He gives up trying to speak too and brings me in for a hug. I squeeze him needing to feel him more than anything but he pulls away in pain.

"Sorry. What's happened?"

He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I don't want to admit how my body tingled at the sensation of his hand around mine.

I find strength once we're in the flat.

"Christian, what happened to you? Did someone beat you up?"

"What else would it be?" He sounded bitter. I don't know what to say.

"Sorry."

"Stop saying that." I'm silent because I don't know what to say but that. "It was... it wasn't anything, I'm fine now."

"Christian! This isn't the time to be proud. Someone hurt you, I want to know who."

"Where have you been?" His voice was heartbreaking. "I've been calling ya."

I know he has. But I couldn't bring myself to speak to him, not after what he'd done to me. Wading in, it wasn't his place.

"Syed, all I wanted to know was that you were OK."

"How could I be? You'd just..."

I couldn't put it into words, what he'd done. He'd taken a hammer to my life, to my family's life, to Amira's life. What did he expect? What did he expect from me now? And what did I expect from him? An apology? Because I'd be waiting an eternity. If he accuses me of saying 'sorry' too much, it's because I have to say it for the both of us. So if I cannot not expect that from him, he really shouldn't expect anything from me. I'm only trying to do what's right. He knows he's my weakness – it's cruel to add to the pressure I already feel.

I feel him take my hand, rubbing my palm with his thumb. No, why? I can't... My eyes sting from tears trying to get out. I blink and they leave me. I can't look up at him. He comes in close to me but I notice the small gap he leaves to protect his injuries. Who hurt my Christian? He brushes his cheek against mine and holds me – it's like we're dancing but standing still. This Christian is so far from the one who caused me to leave a few days ago. If only he'd seen that in the same way his body needs to be treated with delicacy now, he needed to treat things with delicacy then. But the damage is done – on both counts. Now we need to do what we can to repair the damage.

"Show me what they've done."

He looks at me warily before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, wincing slightly. It's awful. He's got bandaging on his ribs but there's plenty of visible bruises and lacerations which haven't yet healed. I don't know which upsets me more; this damage I see all over his torso and face or his embarrassment.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Christian. The person who did this to you does. Who was it, Christian?" I try to put some authority back into my voice so that he may answer me this time.

"Amira's father. I don't blame him, do you?"

"Of course I do! He can't just... I can't even believe... how did he even hurt you so badly?"

"With a little help from his friends."

"What?"

"Oh don't act so surprised, Syed. They'd be lining up, wouldn't they?"

"That's despicable!"

"Well, so am I... to them. Now you understand that, don't you?"

"What do you mean?

"Well that's what this is all about, isn't it? That we're disgusting, that we're wrong. Or maybe just I am. Maybe that's how you think of me."

"How can you say that? That's the last thing I'd think of you."

"You don't want to be like me. Perish the thought!"

"That's not why! You're beautiful. It's just I'm..."

He snorts.

"What?"

"I'm beautiful? I'm covered in bruises that say otherwise."

"You _are_ beautiful."

"I don't believe you."

"How can you not... after all this time?"

"Because if you truly thought that, then you might - you _just _might - start to believe that you were too."

Why was he saying this to me? He brought up my chin and made me look at him.

"That's all I want, Sy. For you to recognise that _we_... are beautiful, together."

He was wrong. I had destroyed my family. What was beautiful about that? But that had no bearing on what I thought of him. He _was_ beautiful, stood in front of me now - beaten, vulnerable. But strong. For that, I admired him.

"Syed...?"

I looked up at him.

He brought his face close to mine and kissed me. I didn't respond the first time but the second time, I was lost in him. I couldn't even think, let alone think to pull away. His lips were soft, his tongue warm as it flirted with mine. I was his, in this moment. All his.


	2. Chapter 2

We'd been sat on his sofa for a few minutes. I could still feel his lips on mine. We hadn't kissed for long – I think he was very wary of anything happening and I could see he was reluctant due to his injuries. They do look horrific, especially on his body. But currently, we're sat here, side by side. He's got my hand cupped in his, rested on his lap. He's staring at our hands like they require the utmost concentration. I can't read him but he looks forlorn.

I've been staring at him for a long time; his hands, his face, his bruised chest. Then he looks up at me.

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"They don't even know I'm in Walford. I came back tonight."

"And came here?"

I nodded, hardly believing it myself.

"I thought you hated me."

"No..." Of course I didn't. He had just let me down, that's all. He'd disappointed me and he'd never done that before. I didn't know what to make of it.

"For what it's worth, I wish it hadn't happened like that. If it means I've lost you."

"It's really wrecked things with my family."

"I know."

"And I need to sort things out with them above anything else right now."

"Yeah." His voice cracked. His tears started streaming but he kept a straight face, trying to pretend he was OK when he was clearly anything but. He inhaled sharply to try and steady himself but it wasn't working. I couldn't take it.

"Christian, come here," I said sympathetically, but moved into him to save him from putting himself through more pain. He cut the pretence. There's something awful about having a man cry on you, especially someone as proud as Christian. Yes, I'd seen him cry many times but this... this was different. It was unadulterated pain. He asked nothing of me. I felt like he was mourning me, us, the situation. Me? Why? I'm not worth it. I still don't even know why he sets his sights on me. He could have anyone. He's... the most amazing person in the world. And I love...

"Christian, I'm not going back home tonight."

He looked up at me, sniffing, doubtful.

"I'm not going to leave you like this. I'm here, OK? I'm here."

His face remained full of mistrust.

"I mean it. I'm not leaving you alone like this."

The look he gave me - one of measured hope – I couldn't resist. But I must. I get up from the sofa, leaving his warmth, his draw.

"Come on, Christian. Let's get you to bed."

"I'm not an invalid."

"I know. But I'll just help you get your clothes off."

"I've been undressing myself just fine." He brought his leg up to take his boot off but immediately winced.

"Will you let me help you now? I know you can do it. But just to make things easier..."

I could sense him battling with his pride but I started taking his boots off anyway and he eventually gave in. I didn't want to emasculate him but causing himself unnecessary pain just to prove a point was silly. Very him, but silly. I took his socks off and I wished I could make him stop looking at me like I was insulting his pride. I unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and he stopped squirming. I knelt there in front of him, looking at him as he sat there seemingly in two minds. But I wasn't undressing him with any other intention than to help him.

He broke eye contact and I continued. He got to his feet and climbed into bed. I turned out the light and got undressed myself, climbing in next to him. The air was not erotically charged yet I longed to hold him. Or for him to hold me. As we lay side-by-side, I could tell what he was thinking. It felt so unnatural to lie separated in bed; this bed that had seen everything.

"Sy."

He'd turned onto his side, facing me with his arm out inviting me in. I slid over to his side of the bed, kissed his cheek and turned over so I was facing away from him, nestling my body into the curve of his. He put his arm around me and adjusted so we fit perfectly.

He kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. "I'll never forget this."


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up to the smell of man – all-man. On my front, I'm faced away from the sight I want to behold. For now, his scent is all I have. But then I feel his hand on me, caressing my body. It's tender – I enjoy it – then it stops. I can feel him leave the bed, hear the shower on. I daren't join. I feel... uneasy. Like a weight should have been lifted but hasn't been. I don't know whether it ever will be. But I need to return to my family and do what I can to limit the damage I've done to them. I need to show them that I haven't 'run away', that I am a man of honour, that they are everything to me. And I mean it. I need to go to them now.

I'm halfway out of bed when Christian re-enters. But... my god, his bandage is off – well, of course it would be, he had a shower – but I forgot. The whole area around his lower ribcage is black, green in places.

"What did you think? It was fine under there?"

Oh god, I must have been staring.

"Don't worry, Sy," he said, cracking a smile.

I smiled back gratefully. I hadn't meant to look horrified, if that's what showed on my face. Really, I'm just concerned – terribly concerned. I hate that he's been attacked, I hate that I can see the evidence all over him.

"I guess you're off?"

"No. Yes. I mean... I have to go. But look at you."

His face changed – he looks so sad suddenly. "Mm."

"You should go to hospital or something."

"I did. They've let me out now. Anyway... these aren't the bruises that hurt."

That was low. "What do you want me to do, Christian? 'Be with you', right? Cos it's so simple."

"Y'know, I didn't ask you to come here and rub it in my face!"

"I came here because I was concerned. And I stayed because you'd been beaten up and I didn't want you to be alone. Why can't you see that?"

"Well if these were the 'good intention' awards, you'd be up on that stage, but it's real life, Syed."

"I know!" Did he have to be so facetious?

"And in real life, there wasn't a bone in my body that thought this would play out any differently. I knew last night was a one-off. I knew you'd be your predictable self. No nasty surprises when it comes to Syed Masood."

"Right, well, I'll just go, shall I? Seeing as my presence is offensive. Maybe I can go and get told the same thing at home. It'll only be what I deserve, won't it?"

Sod this. I make to leave but he grabs my arm.

"No, Sy, don't."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason."

"It's my reason."

He put his hand on my face. I couldn't move. There he was, bruised yes, but... my god, it was still his body on show. It was still his huge frame, his broad chest, his giant biceps, his manly chest hair. I'm a rabbit in the headlights, staring, until he wakes me again with his kiss. It's hungry and wet but then he makes a sound and his voice breaks. He's still kissing me but... he's upset. I break it off.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, but he's looking down.

"You can tell me."

"I just... I don't want you to go."

I look at his blackened ribs again and his bruised face, his cut above his brow. I couldn't leave if I wanted to.

"I won't leave."

"Stay with me today?"

How could I resist? "Yeah. OK."

Oh, his smile is adorable. He grabs my hands and links his fingers with mine. His face – I can't get over it – it's... how could anyone deny him?

* * *

He made me breakfast – home-made fruit smoothie. He's so good to me. He sticks on a couple of CD's he knows I like and we lie cuddling on the sofa for a couple of hours. He's in and out of sleep but I can't sleep. Not now. I'm overwhelmed – mostly because I can't believe I'm here with him, it's all so perfect. I can feel his bulge up against me but I try to block that from my mind – it's too dangerous a thought to have. But then, every now and then, I think of the other reason I came back. The main reason. My family, my parents – and I'm consumed by guilt. It's eating away at me. Between this and getting distracted by Christian up against me, I feel like a terrible person. It destroys the peace I would otherwise feel around him.

He stirs. He opens his eyes and immediately grins from ear to ear. Oh... it's the sweetest thing.

"Hello handsome."

"Christian," I reply, smiling.

His face changes and I can feel why – I feel him dig into me, into my leg.

"Um... ignore it. I didn't will that."

"It's okay."

"It'll go in a sec."

"It's fine, Christian."

He pulls down his shorts a little so I can feel him bare. Bare, against my bare leg. It's... breaking my will power. I can feel him on my skin and he's looking at me with a reluctant lust. I can't react but he takes my stillness as a lack of denial and moves himself against me. I want to reach down but I can't. My mind is really starting to struggle. Then he stops.

"Sorry, Sy."

"Don't be."

"I'm not trying to make things difficult for you. I just... can't resist you sometimes. You know... why."

Oh god, why did he have to say that? He's so open about his feelings, it makes me feel guilty. I don't want to hurt this man. I adore him. There's a hope in his eyes that there wasn't yesterday. Have I lead him on? I just wanted him to have someone whilst he's still healing from what Qadim did to him. I can't... offer him anything else. I get up from the sofa and head to the bathroom. I can't let him see me in conflict.

* * *

I sigh. My toothbrush is still there – all this time, he's never thrown it away. I saw it last time I was here, when I committed such a wealth of sins, but I forgot about it. I brush my teeth trying to get the thoughts of that last time out of my head. Because after that time, what had I done? I'd gone on to commit further sin in my flat. My flat that was not just mine. What an awful thing to do.

I steady myself and re-enter the living room. He's on his feet, still just in shorts but I block out any thought that would otherwise come to me.

"I'm really grateful... that you're here. I know it can't be easy for you. But I'm really glad."

"It's nothing."

"It means a lot to me."

"Really, it's nothing."

"Well, there's no one else I'd rather be here. You're my favourite person in the world."

"Don't be silly."

"You are. You're special."

I laugh nervously. He can't mean it.

"You're kind, and funny and thoughtful. You're really beautiful. I think you're a really beautiful person."

Oh, I don't like compliments. I'm undeserving of them for one.

"And one day, I hope, you'll see what I see."

I smile. "I'm quite happy with what I can see right now."

He grins again, looking naughty all of a sudden. "Come here."

He embraces me, gently, still mindful of his bruises. His hands travel down my back and under the elastic of my shorts. It's bliss, it really is, being in his arms. I feel protected, safe. He kisses me softly, his teeth tugging gently at my bottom lip. I adore it when he does that. His tongue finds mine and I'm lost in his taste. Oh god, I'm his – I'm definitely his.


	4. Chapter 4

As we laze, I lie again in sin. I gave him pleasure for I could not justify my own. But my shame is in the double bluff, for I know no greater pleasure than eliciting his.

This stress is consuming me, a sorry contrast to what my eyes behold. Christian; so peaceful, again drifting in and out of sleep – happy, I think. I watch as his huge chest rises and falls, his hand gripped around my little finger like a child's. He is at ease – it is the most wonderful sight.

I can't disturb him now, but I feel such an urge to get up and wash the heavenly taste of him from my mouth so that I might stop enjoying it. It burns in my throat, taunting me, a wicked reminder of my sin. God must judge me, pity me, for taking pleasure in the act, for delighting in his moans, for being so near to release myself when his was being realised. The fact that he can experience all this without shame or guilt truly adds to my joy – but it is alien to me. At best, my happiness lasts through the adrenaline, but once this wears off, I feel branded with shame. My family lie in tatters only minutes away but here I lay, entwined with the man I try to pretend I don't savour the taste of. I fail again.

He stirs, wrapping his strong arms around me, bringing me into his chest and for just a second I feel warm and fuzzy. I lapse into guilt once again, only for him to bring my face up to his and kiss me tenderly, like I deserve to be treated with care. My face screws up, disappointed that I am enjoying this, that only a small part of me remains moral and desperate to stop my indulgence. But it loses out – I am won over by the softness of his lips, the warmth of his tongue, the tease of him gripping my bottom lip with his teeth.

My shorts tighten, oh please, no! Please don't notice, Christian! But he does. Of course he does. My face screws up again.

"Sy. Relax."

His voice is so soothing... but I can't breathe. I'm mortified.

"Sy..." He smiles and I melt. "You make me feel really... happy."

"I want you to feel happy. More than I've ever wanted anyone to feel happy."

"If I touched you, would you flinch?"

Flinch, no, but I know what he implies. And I can't. It wouldn't be... ach! Oh god. No, Christian, don't touch me. I can't... Oh god, I wish I hadn't looked up. His eyes are locked onto mine and I feel a wave of warmth over me. My breath keeps getting caught. I can't deal with their suggestiveness. My voice cracks and tears fill my eyes, ready to fall upon my first blink. He stops.

"Syed, I'm sorry!"

"No, it's fine."

"I didn't mean to push it. … Oh, I'm sorry. Come here." He pulls me in tight and my tears leave me. He hasn't done anything wrong. I just couldn't do that with God watching me. I couldn't insult him in that way – defy him for a ten minute gratification. I couldn't take his judgement knowing I had no justification for such self-indulgent actions.

Christians fingers were combing through my hair and he rocked me slightly, trying to sooth me. My shorts no longer struggled against my shame, I was calm.

"I need some water."

He brought me some and I tried to be subtle about swilling it round my mouth.

He looked at me like he was assessing me and then stood up. "Do you want your t-shirt? Would that...?" Help, I guess he was trying to say. I didn't see the logic behind it. If anything, I needed him to put something on so that I might not be so tempted every time I looked at him. But could I say that?

"No, I'm fine. I just think..."

"Would you like to go?" He waited for my response but I didn't know my answer. "I'm a big boy. I can look after a few cuts."

"They're not just a few cuts though, are they?"

"I'll be okay. … Sy, I will! Just go, do what you have to do."

"I do want to be here. You do know that, don't you?"

He tries to smile but it's the saddest thing. His face looks... defeated. Oh Christian! How can you say I make you happy?

A tear falls down his cheek and he immediately wipes it away, forgetting he is bruised, and takes a sharp breath in reaction to the sting. He reprimands himself and then, for a reason I can't tell, his anger builds and he curses himself.

"Christian, stop!" He reluctantly calms. "Let's just... one thing at a time." I sit him down and stroke his arm to keep him relaxed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just... you can go, really."

"They can wait til morning. I'm not going to leave you like this."

"Morning?"

"Is that okay?"

"Well, yeah! I just..." I let him trail off. We both know the silence explained it all better than words could. "I made such a mess of things, Sy."

"No..."

"No, I did! I pushed you too far, I wish I hadn't. I wish..." Another sentence that didn't require completion. I knew what he wished for. Some days I wished for it too. Sometimes, I would be with him and just block everything else out so that I could appreciate the time I had with him. Sometimes, when I was struggling with burden, he helped me, he lifted it himself. He was good at helping me forget it all. I'm so blessed to have him in my life, someone who is so kind and caring and... wait! Blessed? Have I just had the most blasphemous of thoughts?

"Syed?" I'm interrupted. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything."


	5. Chapter 5

Christian was having lunch. I couldn't eat, not the way I was feeling, but he'd made himself a feast. I smiled on the verge of laughter at his delight as he tucked into his food, chatting away at me between mouthfuls. He had, thankfully, put a t-shirt on and I no longer had to bear such a stark reminder of his scars.

As he cleared his plate away, still babbling on in the cute way that he always did, I felt at ease. I felt that I could go home safe in the knowledge he was not broken. When he went to brush his teeth, I dressed myself. He came back in as I was lacing up my boots.

"Where you going?"

"Um, I thought I should go home now."

"Oh."

"I need to talk to them. It's overdue."

"What are you gonna say to them?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to play it by ear, see what they say."

"But I mean, what are you going to say... about us?"

"I'm not going over there to talk about us. I'm going over there to talk about me and them, and I'm going over there to do what I can to put this all right."

Christian's breaths were heavy, irregular, like he was trying to contain... anger? "We know what that means."

"Now isn't the time to bring all of this into it. There's damage I've caused that needs repairing."

"Caused by this. You, me, us."

"OK, yes, fine, but I need to focus on reconciling things with them. I need to do whatever it takes to..."

"Well I'll shut up now, shall I?"

"What?"

"You'll go over there and agree to anything they ask of you. And they'll ask you to deny yourself."

"This isn't about 'myself'."

"Of course it is!"

"No, Christian. It's about a lot more than that. Something bigger. It's about family and community and realising these things are bigger than the individual. I'm not going to march over there and lay down _my_ demands, and what _I_ want. You seem to think I should just do whatever I want and to hell with the consequences. I _care_ about these things, they're important to me."

"And I care about _you_. So don't do this, Sy. Don't forget your humanity for the sake of making them more comfortable."

"Don't put others before my sexual gratification?"

"That's insulting, Sy, and you know it."

"That's what it boils down though, isn't it? I love you, I don't deny it. But what we do, it is that! Our... relationship; it's sex."

"And what's wrong with that? Religion goes to great length to attach shame to a concept it feels threatened by. When we are together, I feel anything but shame. I feel beauty. And pride. And I know that what I am expressing is deep, pure, something that words alone do no justice. If you don't think you have the right to that, Sy, I... I might just be the saddest man in the world right now."

"I can't justify putting myself first like you do. I'm not saying you're wrong, you can live your life by that philosophy and..."

"And go straight to hell for it."

"... And I won't judge you," I continued, correcting his presumption. "But your philosophy is not mine. And it's not that I don't see beauty in this, I do. I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes upon. But I'm not the most important person in my life. That's just how it is."

"So I what? Accept my tough luck, I suppose. Life goes on, to hell with me really."

"No, of course not."

"What then?"

"I don't know! I don't _know._ What can I do? This will never be right in their eyes – in God's eyes. And I know you don't care for all that but it matters to me."

"But, Sy, surely your relationship with God is personal. And if he made you, then he made you gay."

"He gave me a test."

"To see whether you could resist me? Why? Why would he do that? Why wouldn't he allow you to love?"

"But it's the wrong sort of love!"

"I shouldn't have the right to feel special?"

"Of course you should!"

"Well then stop being so hypocritical! Stop having one rule for me and one rule for you. If I deserve love and happiness then so do you."

"But I won't be happy without my parents' acceptance. I won't be happy if my community shuns my family. And I won't have their love. So being with you doesn't equal what you think it does."

He threw his hands as if to say 'well that's that then' and then started fiddling with a pen lid that was on the table. There was a silent aggression to him, one that made me want to hug him and tell him everything was okay but I couldn't, of course. We stood there like this – him playing with the lid, me looking at him – for what seemed like a minute or so. I wondered whether I should leave but I'd hate to leave him like this. He opened his mouth to speak but then decided against it. I wanted to hear what he had to say though, or rather I wanted him say something at least.

"What?"

He shook his head.

"Christian, just say."

"I wish there was something I could say... that would make you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you."

"I do want it, so much. Christian, I do. But I can't."

"You won't, you mean."

"I won't do that to my family, no."

"Then... celibacy."

"If that's what it'll take to regain their trust. To make them proud of me."

"They should be proud of themselves. They've managed to gain monopoly on their son – have him love no one but them, hold no one but them. And he'll be in no one else's arms for the rest of his life. He'll live a lonely existence and when they're gone, he'll be lonelier still – just him and his regrets."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what reaction he was trying to provoke.

"And when he's old," he continued, "he'll resent his parents for denying him of what they themselves got to enjoy. A life with companionship, with sexual and emotional fulfilment, with someone to live for. He'll remember a young man called Syed who for a while decided to live his life and he laughed and loved and connected with someone... whatever his name was...and he'll wonder what happened to him." He was looking at me as if trying to pierce me. "And beyond that, I can't think of anything to say that might stop the man I love making the biggest mistake of his life. So I'm done. I'm spent, and useless to you now. So go tell your parents of your successful castration. I'm sure they'll be so proud of you."

There was such a finality to his tone that I felt I had to leave. His voice, his face, devoid of emotion. It was clear he wanted me gone. I slowly walked out and stopped in the hallway, debating whether I should turn round and go back in. Then I heard an almighty SLAM! of the door that shook the walls and the foundations beneath my feet. Ouch.


	6. Chapter 6

_This is something really different to normal - little dialogue. You won't know why after reading this but I'm relishing writing this story. Enjoy. _

* * *

It was the following night. I'd tried my parents three times. The first time, I had knocked on their door and seen someone come to answer it but then turn away again. The second time, I'd caught my father in the street but he had told me to leave the family alone and that I was upsetting my mother. This morning, I tried again but there was no answer. I had spent the day sitting in my flat, feeling at a loss. They didn't want to see me, nor speak to me. I didn't know how permanent this was on their part but it compounded my feelings of guilt. I simply felt terrible. Needing to get out of the flat which depresses me no end, I decided to wonder around town, hoping it was late enough that I wouldn't bump into anyone.

I sat in the middle of the Square for ages, grateful for the air. My family and what I had done to them looped over in my head, torturing me, yet rightly so; it should not be something I could so easily forget. Once I'd decided the fresh air was actually doing me no good, I got up to head home yet as I walked past the Vic, who should walk out but Christian. He stopped, surprised to see me. I was glad for this chance meeting though.

"Christian."

"What do you want?"

"Will you come and talk to me for a bit?"

"I've got to get back." He made to leave.

"My parents; they won't speak to me."

"What do you want me to do about it, Syed? I've told you what I think."

I paused for thought. "I just think they need more time."

He laughed humourlessly. "Like you did? Like you came around in the end?" His smile was... venomous.

"I thought you might..."

"What?"

"... I don't know."

"Neither do I." He turned and walked away from me. I was surprised that he wasn't trying to influence me in some way. He always had something to say, whether it comforted or stung. This was something I was unused to. It made me uncomfortable.

A minute later, I was making my way to his flat and ringing on the bell. I didn't know what I wanted to say or what I wanted to hear, but it was an impulse. I buzzed again.

"What?" He sounded angry, knew it was me.

"Can I come up?"

"Look, Sy, we can have these same conversations forever, or one of us can say enough's enough."

"This isn't like that. But please, not in the street."

"I've got nothing left to say anyway. 'You can lead a horse to water...' they say. And they're right. I see that now."

"Please, Christian. I don't want to go round in circles either. Just let me in."

He buzzed me in and I was relieved for a second before worry took over. I didn't have anything to say to him. I just wanted to be with him, in the same room as him. I wanted him to put his arms around me, make me safe. But I knew he wouldn't. He was too angry.

He opened the front door and looked at me with mild contempt. I felt unwelcome, a little embarrassed. It was beginning to overwhelm me.

Then I just cracked, burst into tears, my knees buckling. I felt him catch me before I hit the ground. He tried to lift me to my feet but my legs wouldn't take it so he knelt on the floor with me, one arm under mine, supporting me, the other holding me, his hand rubbing my back.

I continued to sob on his shoulder, him doing his best to subdue me but I couldn't be calmed. I felt great loss – my parents wouldn't see me, didn't want to know me. I had wronged them and I wasn't being given an opportunity to try and put it right, which I understood completely but it hurt no less. On top of this, I felt that Christian resented me – his anger was visible not just in his eyes but in every inch of his body. I felt like a pariah; the most unwanted of men. The most unloved. I couldn't blame them but I couldn't take it either.

A few minutes passed and my sobbing had subsided. I knelt there, all out of tears with bloodshot eyes, clinging onto Christian like his sympathy would fade any moment and he'd let go of me. He didn't though. He just rocked me a bit, like I do with Kamil sometimes to get him to sleep. I felt tired too; drained. After a bit, my breathing was normal, my mind focussed on nothing it seemed, but I was glad for the respite from negative thoughts.

"Yeah?" Christian said softly into my ear. It brought me back to life, back into the present. He let go of me and I kicked off my shoes. He picked me up and took me over to the bed – I was too tired to hate feeling childlike in that moment. He put me down and tucked me in, sliding my belt off and my socks, unbuttoning my jeans. I could feel my eyelids trying to bargain with me to get some sleep, but I just wanted to stay awake a bit longer to feel Christian get in next to me. Soon I was forced to close my eyes for good but I still waited for him. When my ears eventually shut off, I felt for him beside me with my arm yet it reached nothing but an empty space. And then... my body won its battle.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up and rolled over. There was no sign of Christian. There was no dent on his pillow. He hadn't slept with me.

Forlorn, I decided it was inappropriate to stay in his bed and got up. There was no note left; I assumed he was at work - it was the afternoon already, I'd slept right through. I went into the bathroom and caught sight of my face in the mirror - I looked terrible. I had to get home and shower.

I opened the door to leave and almost walked straight into Christian.

"Sorry, I just woke up, I promise." Oh god, what he must think about the fact I was still in his flat? And why did he have to see me looking like this? "I was just going home, I need a shower and..."

"Have a shower here," he suggested, as if this was the done thing.

I began to say 'don't be silly' but his eyes corroborated his words before I got the chance to speak. There was a tone of finality to the look on his face and I yielded, still unsure of what he implied. I walked slowly, hesitantly, towards the bathroom wondering whether this was him being kind or whether he intended to join me. I was utterly confused.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a spare towel. He hadn't come in. I wondered why he'd suggested I stay at all. Tying the towel around my waist, I walked back into the main room. He was sat on his sofa and turned to look at me. My gaze faltered but when I looked back up at him, his eyes were still fixed on me.

"Come here, Sy."

I stood rooted to the spot. I didn't get this.

"Come on."

I walked over and stood in front of him. He brushed my arm and then tugged at my towel. It dropped to the floor and I felt naked in every sense of the word. As uncomfortable as I was, I didn't move. This didn't feel sexual. It felt sinister. But still I remained there, his face in line with my crotch, him not even pretending to look anywhere else. Semi-consciously I moved my hips towards him so we were touching. It was then that he looked up at me.

"Is that what you want?"

I couldn't tell if it was rhetorical. I didn't know the answer in any case. He held me steady against his cheek and then turned his head and licked me, slowly, firmly.

"Is that what you want?" he asked again.

"No."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

It was the million dollar question, I guess. I suppose that's why he was asking it. But it wasn't fair to ask it when I felt this vulnerable. My mind dared not think.

He took me in his mouth this time, his hot, wet tongue massaging me, asking questions of me. My body responded with no cool, no grace, betraying me. My legs almost gave way beneath me and a shiver went up my spine. He took me out and stood up so we were face to face, his wrought with... anger, I think.

"What the fuck do you _want_?"

I knew how I must have been coming across but I literally couldn't speak. I felt five years old, almost afraid – of myself and of him. I didn't understand this game. I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want to stand here naked, exposed, in front of him whilst he was fully clothed, still in his jacket. I tugged at his open jacket zip hoping he'd understand me.

"You want me bare too, eh? You want us both laid bare?"

He ripped off each layer like it was an insult to his being, his manner aggressive, powerful. He finally stood naked before me and stood so close we were touching below the waist. It was a disconcerting juxtaposition as my mind stayed afraid but my body thought to respond. It didn't though and I was grateful.

"I'm not going to ask again. You don't know what you want, do you? Do you?" His voice was less menacing now but it remained bitter. He didn't need my 'no'. "Well, then you had no right to come here after our last conversation. I told you I was done with this. I made it clear and you should have respected that."

"Like you respected my marriage? My engagement?" I don't know how I'd suddenly gotten brave but tears clouded my vision and I was trembling slightly with defiance.

"How dare you even compare then to now? That engagement you didn't even respect yourself. And I left you to 'enjoy' your marriage until it was clear beyond all doubt that there was no joy in it whatsoever. That it was doomed to fail, like I'd told you. Your heart was with me that whole time and that girl... urgh, don't actually get me started, Syed. Don't throw that at me because I have been consistent with you from the start."

"Well so have I! You have no idea what it's like for me and you don't even try to see. You know there's part of me that wants you and part of me that can't." I sniffed and tried to hold back the tears that were already flooding down my face. "I'm yanked from both sides and no one actually tries and understands! No one puts themselves in my shoes. Because I can't say no to you but then I go home and I can't deal with all the damage I've caused and no one cares. And all I'm trying to do is what's right or nothing at all and I still get it wrong! Everyone hates me, and you wonder why I can't answer your fucking question!"

I was crying buckets by now, my face hot, my sobs inelegant.

I managed to catch my breath and steady myself somewhat, at that point realising I'd had no arms around me all this time. I wiped my tears away so I could see and looked up at Christian, more confused than I'd ever been. He stood there, calmly I thought, poised. Then I noticed how pale he had turned and the weak, sporadic breaths that stuttered from his mouth. My own heartbeat faltered – what was I witnessing here?


	8. Chapter 8

_This is just a mini chapter so as to perhaps leave things on a brighter note until the next instalment. Enjoy._

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* * *

_

"Christian?"

He winced slightly, his face the picture of disappointment. I studied it tentatively, wondering if it was something I'd said, or...

"Christian... what's wrong?" It's not like I couldn't imagine anything was wrong but I couldn't fathom a reason for this particular reaction. And why it came now.

He swallowed, his eyes dead at he looked right at me. "I'll never have you, will I," he said, not asking me but telling me.

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that we had a chance to be together – but I would never promise him something I couldn't. I _wanted_ to be with him. _God_ I wanted to be with him, more than anything. But not more than everything – and that is what would be sacrificed here. My family, their happiness, their well-being – my faith, my god who I continually disappoint with my sin. The crazy thing is, I would do it for Christian, I would be with him. I love him more than I ever thought I could and I want him to have what he wants – but in this, I also feed my own desires, I can't deny that - and I can't justify indulging myself when my family have been disgraced through me.

I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. It wasn't meant to be symbolic, it was curiosity, exploration. I could feel it beating strongly like it always did, like the hammer of Thor. He put his hand on my face and I looked up at him. He looked better now but there was terrible melancholy in his eyes.

I began to speak, surprising myself. "I love you..." I stopped myself.

He showed no reaction. It was... sad, disturbing. Like I'd broken him. Like I'd broken my Christian.

"Do you know what I wished for on my birthday? I wished I could remember that moment forever, that moment we'd just spent in the flat... and then I made a new wish. I wished that, however fantastical it may seem, I would get to spend countless moments in your arms over the rest of my lifetime. I felt silly wishing for that but I did so knowing no one could ruin that moment, where I let myself imagine just for a second that I wasn't being silly at all."

He still didn't say anything. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I couldn't move from where we were because I was conscious we were naked, conscious now didn't feel like the right time to see each others bodies. So we remained, brushed up against each other – it didn't feel inappropriate though, just...sad. So close yet so distant at the same time.

His hand was still on my cheek. He brought me up to his face and kissed me so lightly I didn't know whether I'd imagined it. But I responded, needing that verification, needing anything. He parted from me and looked into my eyes searching desperately, for what I didn't know. I didn't know why he'd kissed me either, just that I was grateful. I had to go for it, I kissed him again and this time there was no holding back - my lips moistening his, my tongue playing with his, dancing around his mouth. This was a kiss for its own sake, no obvious meaning, but I didn't want it to end.

As we continued, refusing to draw breath, he brought my body into his and we pressed up against each other not knowing where one began and the other ended. I stood with him, tasting him, drinking him in, there in his arms like I'd wished for on my birthday. I didn't feel silly this time.


	9. Chapter 9

We sat on the sofa. I'd grabbed our shorts needing cover - symbolic cover, I suppose. Christian hadn't put his on. He just held them, playing with the elastic. After we'd kissed, he'd looked at me almost like he felt insulted and sat down. I didn't know if I'd interpreted him correctly but he'd certainly put a stop to anything else happening. And now we sat in silence. I couldn't keep it up though, not knowing what he was thinking.

"What now?"

"What do you mean 'what now'? It's pretty clear, Sy."

"Is it?"

"Well _we_ have no chance so it's back to mum and dad."

"I told you, they won't talk to me."

"They will."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. But you've based your future on the assumption they'll come around eventually - who am I to ruin the dream?"

"What if they don't come around?"

"Not my problem."

"Look, I haven't chosen them over you. It's just you said it couldn't be both, so I've respected that. But now it turns out you only care about me if there's an 'us'. Everyone wants something."

"So do you."

"I never excluded myself from that. But I also don't take my love away the minute things don't go how I want them to. My mother takes it away because of me and you and now you're doing the same thing because you and I can't be how you want us to be."

"I'm not 'taking it away' - like it's that simple," he scoffed. "But what's the point in me supporting your decision when I fundamentally disagree with it? Or more precisely, when I know it won't make you happy? To me, you're just making more of the same mistakes, like you've learnt nothing from this whole experience. Look where the whole thing with Amira got you. And you still think you can be happy denying who you are for the sake of others. It's gonna be deja vu in spades, for you and me both. So no, I don't care anymore."

"If you don't care, then why did you kiss me?"

"The same reason you had a relationship with me despite having no intention of actually being with me, I suppose," he said sardonically.

"Look, if you're just going to keep taking swipes at me... You're the one who invited me to shower here, you're the one who got us naked, you're the one who kissed me – and now all this. In fact, I don't understand you at all right now."

He didn't reply. He just pulled tight on the elastic of his shorts - in frustration, I suppose.

"Don't. You'll overstretch them."

"I already..." He stopped mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Don't matter. It was just a joke."

"I like it when you joke. You haven't joked with me for a long time."

"I guess... I guess this isn't funny."

"No, I know," I said quickly. "I still miss it though. Us being like that."

We were silent for a few moments, no doubt both of us were thinking back to happier times, reminiscing. The atmosphere started to lift. He took my hand and I found myself looking at his crotch accidentally, the space his hand had just left. I think my eyes lingered a little too long because he noticed. He gave me a quick glance and smiled, starting to stroke himself with his other hand. I couldn't take my eyes off him but in the back of my mind, I felt the cogs trying desperately to work him out. Why keep doing things that contradicted what he said?

His hand was soon replaced with mine and I didn't have the capacity at that moment to think of reasons. It was impulse; maybe we were both just working on impulse. He guided my head downwards and I wilfully obeyed. Soon, the sofa became the site of our ultimate betrayal and my heart castigated me for forgoing all the progress I had made. I had, however, brought it back to life and I expected it was secretly grateful.

* * *

I lay on the sofa soaked with sweat, not just my own. Christian's hand brushed the hair away from my face, the hair which was dripping, literally. He was still trying to catch his breath. I watched his chest become the size of a house each time he inhaled, it was magnificent; all his chest hair plastered to him by the sweat still trickling down. It was this juxtaposition of care, of tenderness, that followed such a show of brute strength and relentless energy that thrilled and enchanted me. It was as if in the moment he was caught up, and so was I – impervious to the pain – and then after it was time to digest the fact this was love, the epitome of beauty.

He looked at me with the sweetest smile. "Are you sore?"

I gave a knowing smile. "A bit."

"It was worth it though."

"Always."

The fact was, I liked the pain. It made it evermore real and heightened his masculinity. There had been a time, right at the beginning, where he'd been cautious with me and I told him not to be. I needed to feel... everything.

And now, as we lay on the sofa, with day becoming evening, I couldn't have been more confused. I couldn't deny that every time I was with him, I wanted this. I wanted him, to be with him, a life of him. He was beginning to drift off next to me.

"Christian, stay awake."

He protested with a moan, like a five year-old.

"Stay awake because I want Round Two."

Suddenly he wasn't protesting anymore. He kissed me, every single inch of me – spending a little more time in sensitive areas. He chewed on my ear and I needed action, fast.

"Christian," I pleaded, trying to push him down to where I needed him.

He chuckled into my ear, pleased with himself at the fact I couldn't move him. "If I can make that happen without going there, you stay the night."

"Christian, I'll stay the night whatever. So please stop teasing."

It worked.


	10. Chapter 10

_Two chapters at once - to make up for the lack of Chryed content. Couldn't do the whole thing as a two-hander as nice as that would be! Enjoy._

* * *

It was odd. I felt I was living at Christian's, the amount I'd been here since I came back home. I toyed with the post-it he'd left on his pillow: 'Stay'. I felt OK about this, about staying. But I needed more underwear, I needed a few things. Christian wouldn't be back for ages so I thought I'd try home again.

I went back to my flat and packed a bag with clothes, toiletries and things, and then returned to Christian's – spare set of keys to hand – and left the bag just inside his front door. Then I was off again.

I knocked at the house – dad answered with Kamil in his arm.

"Hi dad. Can... we talk?"

He let me in and I tried to ignore the look on his face. It was clear we were alone. "How is everyone?" I asked tentatively.

"How do you think they are?"

"I'm sorry."

"Bit late for that, isn't it, Syed?"

"I want to make things right with you."

"How are you going to do that? You've seen the consequences of your actions. Not for play, was it?"

"I never thought it was a game."

"Could've fooled me. Playing behind Amira's back with..."

"I was never playing."

He was visibly struggling with the idea. I didn't feel like filling him in just now – the last thing I wanted to talk about right now was Christian.

"I know the damage I've done, the hurt I've caused. I just want the chance to fix this."

"You can't."

"Please dad. There must be something I can do."

"Have you seen him? Since you got back?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question, Syed."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to lie. But if I told the truth, he'd get the wrong idea. Too late, I'd delayed my answer too long.

"You're unbelievable, Syed. After everything that's gone on," he started to shout. "After you've single-handedly brought this family down from grace, you still see fit to carry on with that man!"

"No, dad, I've been trying to... It's you I came back for, you and mum. I've been trying to see you, speak to you."

"And when that failed, you ran straight back into his bed, did you?"

"No! Dad, he's not more important to me than you. I mean it, I'd do anything to make things right with you."

"By... doing _that_?"

"No, I'll stop, I promise. Please."

"Why haven't you stopped already? How you can do that whilst your mother is distraught, going out of her mind with worry for the business, for this family...? How you can be that selfish...?"

"It's not like that. It's really not. All I've wanted to do since I got back, all I've ever wanted to do, is do right by this family."

"No Syed, no that's not true. Because if it was, you'd have stayed away from that man – not just now but always. You knew what he was like – you could've said no right at the start and avoid this whole sorry mess."

I... guess he was right. If I'd just been firm with Christian in the beginning... because now I was in too deep, far too deep. But I would give it all up for them, for my family, to see them back on track again.

"You'd better leave. I've got Kamil to sort out."

"Wait, dad, no. I'll do whatever it takes, I mean it. I'll stop seeing him, I'll act like he doesn't exist. Please, I can do this. I want to do this."

"Stop seeing him, Syed? The damage is already done! You have brought shame on your family and for what? A kick."

"It wasn't like that... at all! You really think I'd jeopardise everything for a kick? You really think..."

"Yes!" he interrupted. "Yes, Syed, I do. You've shown just how warped your world view is by shacking up with that man whilst your family is in crisis. So don't even try it. I'm not going to ask you to leave again."

"But..."

"Unless you want your mother knowing just what's been going on since all of this..."

I obeyed him. I walked out of the house and straight to my flat without looking up once. I crashed down on the sofa and felt tears run down my face again. God, I'd been stupid. To think, if I'd just stayed away from Christian, I could be back with my family now, maybe – making things up to them. Now they'd never believe I wanted to put them first. What a mess, what a huge mess.

* * *

My phone woke me from an uneasy sleep. It was still relatively light outside, I must have fallen asleep by accident. I saw Christian's name light up on the screen but I couldn't answer it. I needed to cut off all contact – that was the only way I'd manage to do this. And I needed to prove to my family that I could.

The sky faded to black. I sat in my living room with a cup of tea thinking about what could be done. The only thing I could think of was to allow my family time and then knock for them again, this time with me able to say I hadn't seen Christian at all. Then a text flashed up on my phone. Christian again:

'can see the bag. where's the man?'

Oh god, I'd forgotten I'd left my stuff at his. Well, I'd just have to buy replacements or go without. Nothing in there was vital. I decided to get an early night, pulling the cover over me on the sofa where I now slept considering I hadn't had time to patch up the bedroom. I finished my tea and lay down.

Cue doorbell. I ignored it but it buzzed again - I had a faint idea who it might be though and knew I shouldn't answer. But after the third buzz, I was losing patience. I thought if I answered the intercom, that may be a way around actually seeing him.

"Hello?"

"Sy, I've been tryna call you."

"Let's just leave it now, yeah?"

"What?"

"I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry."

"Sy, let me up."

"No, I mean it. I can't see you."

"What are you, a kid? Let me up. Now."

"I'm sorry."

I hung up. I didn't mean to not give him any explanation but if I saw him, I knew I'd get tempted, and he knew the reasons by now. I thought I heard his door slam a few yards away. This was going to be hard. But I could do it.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day my buzzer rang once more. It had better not be Christian again. But it wasn't, it was Tambo. I let him up and he looked mildly distressed.

"What's wrong?"

"The parents are going mental."

"Why?"

"Apparently they bumped into Christian."

"What? When?"

"This morning. They came back into the house arguing – just the parents, I mean. They were shouting at each other, arguing about him, and then they started arguing about you."

"What were they saying?"

"I don't know really. I went to see what was going on but they tried to fob me off. But I definitely heard both your names mentioned a lot – and I figured out from what they were saying that they'd bumped into him. I just hope they didn't cause a scene. We've had enough of them."

"Do you know what he said to them?"

"No. Look, I really don't know what's been going on. All I know is that they're out for his blood."

Oh god. What had happened? I needed to know. "I need to see them."

"Er, I wouldn't right now. I can't stress enough how fuming they are."

"But I can't just sit here wondering. It looks like everything's just gotten ten times worse and I have no idea why."

"Well, you could ask Christian, I suppose."

"No. I'm not seeing him."

"Well, if you try and find the parents, they'll only knock you back. And you might even worsen their mood. Try later by all means, but..."

"It's like I'm not even involved in all this now – it's just playing out before my eyes."

"Look, I just came round to tell you what had gone on but I need to be at work and I don't want to be late, considering."

"No, I guess not. Thanks Tam."

"See you."

Oh, what a mess! It was almost laughable the amount of things which could go wrong in such a short space of time. I'm glad Tambo came to see me though – it felt nice to have someone who didn't hate me right now. I just wish this hadn't happened – not now.

I didn't know what to do – I felt utterly impotent sitting here out of the loop, not even knowing what was said between Christian and my parents; not knowing what had set me back god knows how much and how long. Tambo was right – I didn't want to infuriate my parents any more, I'd already thwarted myself by going to see my dad yesterday. As much as I really didn't want to see Christian right now, I had to know.

I knocked at his but he wasn't in; working, I supposed. I waited for midday and went to the Vic, checking to see my parents weren't around to notice me and get the wrong end of the stick. He was there on his own, setting things up still. He looked up and upon seeing me looked instantly annoyed.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"What happened this morning?"

"What happened to not seeing me anymore?"

"Look, I need to know what was said."

"Yeah well sorry, I'm not your local gossip service."

"Christian! You know I'm trying to repair my relationship with them and now this has happened. So are you going to tell me or not?"

"Go fuck yourself."

I turned and left faster than it would've taken to say anything back. I didn't know if I'd ever been angrier with him. What had he said to them? It was driving me crazy. Is this how things were going to be now? People carrying on sniping at each other making the situation worse day by day?

I got back to the flat and raced up the stairs. Downing two glasses of water, I finally settled on the sofa. That wasn't on, how he spoke to me. I know he was angry and he had every right to be, but to say that to me, and with such venom... It was as if he hated me; this man who says he loves me, wants us to be together – and as soon as I decide against us, all that is forgotten. He really is no better than my parents.

* * *

I spent the day in Stratford after getting in things for the flat. I went to the independent cinema and deliberately chose an art-house film - neither Christian nor Amira ever let me but I preferred them to blockbusters. And it kind of worked, my mood was lighter.

I then returned to Walford - the place grey never evaded - entered the flat and sighed. I was bored, essentially. Not welcome at work, nor as company for either my family or my... I surfed the web aimlessly and tried to avoid the adult material that came up in the adverts. I was bored enough to use it right now but I wouldn't. It wouldn't make sense to – not that sort of material and the other type didn't work anyway.

Christian's words rang in my ears. The more I tried to stop thinking about it, the more I inevitably did. He'd never said that to me before. He'd sworn of course, he did regularly, but not so directly. The more tired I got - or rather, lethargic – the less I tried to figure it all out. Because I didn't know what had gone on between him and my parents. I now suspected some harsh words were said, perhaps on both sides and that had put him in a bad mood. And I guess he'd expected me to return to him – I did give that impression. In fact, that had been my intention. And he didn't know the conversation I'd had with dad to change all that. I guess it wasn't so harsh considering. I don't know.

* * *

It was almost midnight now. I just wanted to see him. It wouldn't be to do anything, I wouldn't necessarily be going back on my promise. I just wanted to... make sure things were OK. I wanted to apologise for letting him down. And then I could obey my father with a clear conscience.

I grabbed my keys and headed out. I really had nothing to lose.


	12. Chapter 12

_Last update for several days. This is pure, delicious, Chryed dialogue. Have a great week. Enjoy._

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* * *

_

I rang his buzzer and, surprisingly, he let me up straight away. He opened his door and didn't move an inch.

"Why... are you here?"

"Look, I'm sorry okay, I..."

"The next time you say that, I'll throw you out myself."

What?

"Do you know how empty that word sounds to me now? It doesn't mean a thing. In fact, it's becoming insulting, like just about everything else you do."

"Let me explain. I went to see dad, and..."

"Don't care, Syed. I don't care. Whether it's God, or mum, or dad, or your fascist community..."

"Fascist community?"

"Yeah, that's right. They want to dictate what you do. They have this authoritarian reign on your life, this unhealthy reign. Why can't you see that whoever you use when you're trying to convince me, to convince yourself, that you shouldn't be with me – your parents, your religion, your community – all they're coming up against is me; one man. And look how you struggle. Does that not tell you something?"

"I never said any of this was easy."

"But don't you see? It's too difficult. If you are as drawn to me as _everything else_, then maybe this part of you, this part you dismiss as 'just a part', is not just a part at all. It _is_ you. And if you deny your sexuality, you deny life. You choose existence. And you choose it for those who would see you miserable, Syed. Miserable."

"They just want me to respect God."

"And you believe God doesn't respect your heart?"

"Look. It is _clear_. It is clear in my religion that it is wrong – there are specific passages in the Qu'ran, in the Hadith, that say it is wrong and that it goes against God. If you even started to try and understand things from a religious standpoint, then you'd see why I can't do this."

"Does it say that love is wrong?"

"It says that two men..."

"Does it_ say_ that love is wrong? ... And what does your heart say? What does your body say?"

"My heart tells me not to destroy my family even more than I have done already. My body tells me to starve itself of vice so that I may reconnect with my spirituality."

"Your heart says nothing of me?"

"My heart drops when this man who says he loves me doesn't try and understand me."

"I may not always understand what goes on in that head of yours, but I understand your heart. I understand that if I stand up-close to you like this," he said stepping forward, "your heart beats a little faster. I understand that if I touch you, even briefly like this, your body tingles. I understand that if I kiss you, you feel compelled to return it. That if I suck you, you shake. If I fuck you, you scream. And if I make love to you – like you _know_ I have done, time and again – you feel a unity, a connection, a _fulfilment_ that you will otherwise never feel in life. And it feels _right_. And you _know_ that it does. Not wrong, not sinful, not unnatural – but like the most natural and most wonderful thing on Earth. Now you compare that to how you felt a month ago. Can you go back to that? A lifetime of that? Be honest, Syed. You couldn't last four months. What does that tell you? What does _all this_ tell you?"

I thought for a moment. "That I am weak. It tells me I am weak."

Christian gathered himself. "If strength is misery, desolation, despair, then how on Earth can that be what you strive for? How on Earth can that be what a _loving_ family would want for you? What a _gracious_ God would want for you? If you're asking me to understand that, well, I don't. I can't, because I know, as someone who does love you probably more than you realise, more than I can cope with at times, that I want to see a smile on your face. I want to see you laugh, and express yourself freely, and come out of your shell. I want you to feel unafraid to show the love you have in abundance, and feel secure and confident that you inspire it in others. Because you do, Sy. I love you so much."

I flung my arms around him. He kissed me and held me so tight, I could barely breathe. Except I had so much oxygen suddenly, it was like a new lease of life. Don't let me go, Christian. I mean it, I promise you, this time I mean it.


	13. Chapter 13

_A couple of advance warnings: This is about to get quite dark. I've also had to raise the rating. Enjoy._

_

* * *

_

We were in bed – we'd gone straight there, straight 'to sleep' but I didn't think either of us were. He spooned me, his arm around me, his fingers gripped in between mine, but no way was he sleeping. And neither was I - I was worried. He was saying, doing, the right things but his manner was... shut off. It was like with every look, every smile, he'd tried to fob me off. Like suggesting going straight to bed was his way of evading dealing with things.

I had now done this. In the space of a few seconds, although in reality it was over several months, I had come to terms with the choice I must make; must, not should. I knew that life had given me a chance, a chance to feel every second like it was a second not to be missed. I had tried to fight it, tried to live the life that was expected of me, the life I wish I'd wanted as much as I'd wanted to want it. But Christian was in my head all the time. When I woke up, when I ate, when I went to bed – dare I say it, when it was least appropriate too.

Mum knew I loved him; dad too, I think. And I loved them which is why this was going to be hard – they would see it as a betrayal. But it wasn't that. It wasn't me forgetting what this had done to them and it wasn't me choosing myself over them. It was simply that I'd chosen that path - what they wanted, what they represented - all this time and it hadn't brought anyone any happiness. It hadn't brought joy or love; just resentment and upset.

So now I was doing what I felt inclined to do – I had hoped it would at least see Christian's happiness. But it hadn't for some reason. I thought it had when he'd hugged me as tight as he did but as soon we parted, he looked at me and his face changed. Now his whole manner was different. I felt at a loss.

I turned over to face him.

"Christian?"

"Mm?"

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah."

But I knew these days when something was wrong. And something was.

"Christian, do you like living on your own?"

"Hey?"

"I don't."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't really have the money to pay for next month's rent on my own – whilst I'm not working. I was thinking, you and I could..."

I left the sentence hanging, looking hopeful, but Christian didn't say anything. It was worse than a 'no'.

"It was just a suggestion."

He still said nothing.

"What do you want from me?"

"Sorry?"

"Well, I thought you'd be happy."

"You shouldn't be doing this for me, you should be doing it for you."

"I am. But what, you're not pleased? I thought it would be nice if this was our place. Then I'd never have to leave."

"Let's see what happens, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"You might change your mind tomorrow, the next day... Let's just go one step at a time."

"I won't change my mind now."

"Let's see."

"Christian! I won't."

"OK, fine, you won't. Can we sleep now?"

"You don't believe me."

"Well ya wouldn't, would you?"

"Christian, I mean it this time. My parents... I've tried to do the right thing and I got it wrong. So this time..."

"This time, I know better than to get my hopes up."

God, I wanted to strangle him! But no, I kissed him, aggressively. He kissed me back but we parted quickly.

"What's that gonna prove, Sy?"

"What would it take?"

He laughed humourlessly.

"I'm serious. What do I have to do?"

"Maybe when you've held onto this opinion for a month, I'll believe you." His tone was cold, spiteful even.

"What, so it's going to be like this for a whole month?"

"Oh come on, Sy. You won't even last one day!" More of his cynical laughter – it was beginning to annoy me.

"I'll show you then," I said, still trying. "I'll be here tomorrow when you get back from work."

"So?"

"So that'll be a day."

"Oh, Syed! You don't get it!" he exclaimed, startling me. "It's not that. It's you being honest. You telling your parents what _you_ want rather than the other way around. Every time you see them, they browbeat you into doing what _they_ want, or maybe you willingly go along, I don't know. Until you've shown them they're not in charge of you, nothing's changed. Do I think you can't still be swayed over to their way of thinking? Do I think guilt may still take over you? You bet, Sy, and who could blame me?"

"Fine. I'll see them tomorrow, in the day. I'll see them and I'll tell them – we're together. And then I'll be here when you get back."

He'd calmed down but all I could see was worry and doubt in his eyes, as if he could only anticipate disappointment.

"I will, Christian."

He looked... scared. It made me want to cry. But then he curled his fingers behind my ear and kissed me, tentatively, as if trying to suss me out. I responded hungrily but then he pulled away again. He wanted to do this in his own time. He scanned my face, for signs of what I wasn't sure, and began to kiss my neck, collar bone, chest. He was gentle as he sucked my nipples, nibbled on my earlobe, chewed my lip. Not taking his eyes off mine, he began to stroke me – I was hard for him instantly. With some lube he'd grabbed from the side, he carried on, making me feel deliciously aroused whilst still aware he was testing me.

He knelt in between my legs, wedging his thighs under my arse so I was the perfect angle for him. With my calves resting on his shoulders, he delicately massaged in between my cheeks with his lubricated fingers, still not having taken his eyes off of me. He had a deliberate but serious look about him, like he wanted to show me something. Pushing a finger inside me, he started to touch himself with his other hand, lubricated as well. I was beginning to whimper, beginning to need him inside of me, properly.

Adding another finger, he began to slide in and out of me quickly making me ask for him by calling out his name. Rather than go inside me himself, he added a third finger and switched the hand that was touching himself back to me. The double stimulation was becoming too much but I couldn't finish now, I needed _him_.

"Christian, please!"

Too late. Blood coursed through my veins at a hundred miles per hour, filling every inch of me with pleasure. With my eyes tight shut, colour invaded the black and my mind felt freedom.

* * *

My breaths were deep as I slowly recovered from the climax. The blood returned to its natural routine though my legs still tingled. It was good, but it wasn't what I'd wanted.

Then the sting:

"See what it's like, Sy?"


	14. Chapter 14

I hit him so hard I hoped the fading bruises on his chest magnified the pain. My thoughts not clear enough to be articulated, I hit him again with the other hand.

"How _dare_ you? You bastard! You cruel bastard!"

My face was hot, wet with tears. I wanted to be anywhere but with him but he was still there in front of me, the mere sight of him offending me. I got up, out of the bed, into the bathroom, just to be somewhere else. Crying into the sink, I hated him. He was sick.

I was there for a couple of minutes before he entered, turning me round to face him and putting his arms around me. I was too upset to reject him, I just buried my head into his chest and cried the last of my tears. Resting his chin on my head, he ran his fingers through my hair and tried to calm me. I did calm down but not because of him. All his talk of making love and then he uses sex as a weapon, uses it in the most vile, twisted way – in vengeance.

I wrestled from his grip and stormed back into the main room, going straight for the sofa where my clothes were. He came back in as I was putting my jeans on. He didn't say anything, he just leaned against the door frame. He watched as I put on my socks, then t-shirt, and handed me my boots which were by him.

"Who _are_ you?" I asked, really wondering. It was like I'd never known him at all.

I finished lacing up my boots and found the bag I'd packed the day before. I slung it over my shoulder grimacing at the bitter irony of it.

Before I turned to go, I found the resolve to look at him again.

"Why? When I'd finally promised myself to you..."

With a sadness, a sweetness, to his voice, he replied, "I knew you wouldn't stay."

* * *

I sat in the flat, in the bedroom, staring up at the wall; 'Syed loves Christian'. I didn't know what I felt now. Not that a year's-worth of love could be cancelled out in one sentence, but it was an abhorrent thing to do. For those few minutes afterwards, I'd questioned it, I'd really questioned it. How could I trust him now that I'd seen the level he would stoop to just to see me hurt? It was spiteful, it was calculated. All because he doubted me. He utterly mistrusted me, with an intensity that was nothing but destructive. How could we get back from here?

At the same time, since I'd made the choice I had tonight, it was clear I couldn't shy away from it any longer. I couldn't pretend I wasn't... gay. I couldn't get wrapped up in another dishonest relationship like I had with Amira. I couldn't opt for a life of celibacy either just to try and gain the acceptance I would not gain from a life alone anyway, even less now in the wake of everyone finding out about me. The reality was, I didn't know how I could make my parents proud of me, short of throwing myself into a new marriage which I neither could, nor would, now do to any girl. I didn't know of anything I would actually be prepared to do that would make them proud because I loved Christian and that caused them shame. … I love Christian.

I looked at the wall in a fresh light. I had to put tonight behind me if we were going to have any chance. I had to continue on with my plan: to tell my parents that Christian and I were together and then be there waiting for him at his flat when he got home. I should think that might also show him I am worthy of his trust. This is what needs to be done.

I caught myself smiling, probably because I was secretly quite proud of myself for having such clear thoughts after the mess of tonight, not to mention the fact that it was 4am. I decided to sleep under the graffiti for the first time that night – somehow it didn't bother me so much now.

* * *

I woke quite late, it was already the afternoon. I showered and had a good breakfast in preparation for the visit to my parents. I was nervous but not intolerably so. I was ready to do this, I _was_.

I walked over to the house sucking in as much oxygen from the spring air as I could, just to steady myself. I knocked and Tam answered.

"Syed, hi."

"Hi Tambo. Are mum and dad in?"

"Yeah."

He let me inside and gestured towards the living room. I was glad he was there too – perhaps as someone less daunting to face on a day like today. I walked in and mum and dad were sat at the table going through some things.

"Hi mum, dad."

They turned around and dad's face was doubting as ever, mum's verging on thunderous.

"I..." I quickly gulped the air that would not be inhaled and gathered myself again. "I came because I've got something to tell you, something you should hear."

"What's that?" said dad, folding his arms, already expecting the worst as he always did of me. I sat down in front of them and smiled nervously.

"Me and... Christian." I'd delayed saying his name because I knew they would baulk upon hearing it. "We're going to be together." That was it, it was said.

"What, Syed?" Mum spoke quietly, disbelieving. "You rip this family to shreds, run away and then come back to tell us that you are carrying on with _that_ man? _That_ man?"

"You know what, Syed?" dad interjected. "You've always been a selfish man and now, you have surpassed yourself. Turning your back on this family in their hour of need."

"I'm not though – I want to see this family back on its feet..."

"_How_?" he shouted. "By sleeping with _him_?"

"No, it's not like that. You can't know how sorry I am for this whole mess. If I could go back and start again, I would. But lying about it has only made things worse. I need to be honest and the truth is, I love him."

Mum shook her head. "Love him? Syed, how can you love him? When he has done this to us?"

Dad interrupted again. "That man destroys families, destroys marriages. He swaggers around, led by his groin, doing whatever he wants because he's the only person he's concerned about. The rest is all a big joke to him."

"No, dad, he _cares._"

"Is that what he tells you, eh? Does he also 'care' about the bloke we saw him leaving his flat with yesterday?"

My heart stops.

"What?"

"You heard."

My head was spinning at a terrific speed and I was suddenly desperately nauseous. "He wouldn't."

"Of course he would! And he did. And he then had the audacity to come over and have a go at _us_."

"No..."

"Zee, tell him."

"Tell him what, Mas? The boy actually chooses this filthy,_ sinful_ lifestyle above his own family. They deserve each other."

"Do you know what, Syed? Just leave."

"Dad, I want..."

"_Get out_!" he shouted, pounding the table. I caught my mother's disgusted look before I left. I heard Tam call my name but I sped out of the door.

I literally ran back to the flat and collapsed in a heap on the landing. Out of breath, crying, I wondered whether things could get any worse. My head pounded, I could barely think. Things were at rock bottom with my parents; my mother could barely look at me, my father only with contempt – I wasn't welcome anymore, I wasn't their son, just their source of shame. With Christian, it just seemed to be one thing after another; relentless hurt. His reckless outing of me, first to my wife, and then, not satisfied with that, to everyone. His cruel game last night – I was increasingly sure he'd done the whole thing out of spite. And now this.

Did he love me? Or hate me?


	15. Chapter 15

"You've got five minutes."

Christian was at my flat. It had been a tough few days – I'd been given my notice by Mrs Patel and I'd searched frantically for a new place to live, even more so for a job to pay for it. I would now be sharing a house with two aloof strangers and working on a commission-only basis. Nothing about my life right now made me want to live it. I hadn't dared go near my house, my parents. I'd seen Christian once by accident – I was lucky in that he didn't see me but it was always a danger living so close to one another.

Tomorrow I moved; all my stuff was packed up in the living room. Christian's jaw had dropped when he saw it, asking me where I was going. I hadn't bothered to answer. I just told him to get talking because I didn't want to be in the same room as him for long – he actually made my blood boil just thinking of him. I was disillusioned, totally disillusioned by it all. He had done that.

"Go on then."

"Sy..." He sighed deeply, his hands scrunching up his hair. He turned away from me. "It's reached a point where I don't even know if words would suffice but... I just have no idea what to do. It wasn't meant to be like this." He paused again for a long time – defeat, disappointment emanating from him like an aura. "I thought... I thought that if people knew the truth, we'd have our chance. It feels like I've been waiting a lifetime for something like this; maybe I have. And then last week, I was beginning to think 'yeah, it's happening' and then... and then it all got taken away again." He turned round to face me but kept his eyes averted. "Sy, I hit out. I can't do anything about it now but apologise to you and hope you know how sincere I'm being. I..." His shame turned to embarrassment for a moment – I could see him struggle with himself over whether to say his next line. "I was terrified. I thought I'd lose you before I even got to call you my own. Now I'm terrified I've definitely lost you."

He looked at me properly for the first time since he'd started talking. He didn't have to tell me how he was feeling, I could see it, etched all over his face. I felt that same sense of dread – that wicked thought that suggested all of this could have been for nothing.

"I told my parents, you know. I told them we were going to try and... but then they told me. They told me you hadn't changed. That you're still picking up men like they're on some conveyor belt."

"What?" he said, surprised.

"They saw you with someone. And you know they did. You just thought you wouldn't mention it."

"Why would I mention that?"

"So it's true?"

"I'm sure your parents delighted in telling you," he said, sourly.

"I can't believe... don't have a go at them! It's not like you were going to tell me!"

"Tell you what, Sy? That I tried to distract myself from the corpse that was our relationship? That I'd just lost you, again, and just wanted _something_ that would stop my heart hurting like a bastard? And do you know how fucking humiliating it is that my embarrassingly misguided attempt to cope is now public fucking knowledge? And all you can do is castigate me. Well of course it's not gonna look good, Sy, but you told me you didn't wanna see me anymore. What was I supposed to do?"

"Why come here? If that is the measure of how sorry you are?"

"What? Do you want me on my hands and knees, Sy, begging forgiveness? I hate what I've done, but not as much as I hate why I did it. I didn't come here to grovel. I came here to apologise and then return to the bigger picture which is that I love you, and you love me. What it says on that wall... still."

I couldn't believe the arrogance of him, that he was able to say with such confidence how I felt about him. Because _I_ certainly wasn't so sure. It was an arrogance I used to love but now I saw it was an ugly trait. Maybe dad was right. Maybe Christian did love himself more than anyone else.

"Well, don't worry, I'm painting over it tomorrow before I leave."

I looked up at him and he was looking at me defiantly, but definitely with pierced pride.

I continued; "I didn't know whether you could hurt me any more than you did at the flat-warming. But you have. And I don't see the remorse. I don't see who it was I fell for. I can't even see why I ever did now."

When he eventually spoke, his voice was weak – like with the first thing you say when you stop crying. "That's sad. Cos I still think you're the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Then why do I feel like your voodoo doll?"

"I don't know. Cos all I want to do is hug you and protect you from all the pain out there. And now I can't say I won't be the one hurting you. I feel bad – to have made you lose faith."

"But _you_ lost faith! You lost it in me. You never thought I'd tell my parents about us and I did."

It was like a light had switched on in Christian's head, clearly just remembering I'd said this earlier. "What did they say?"

I looked at him and it was enough. He knew.

"Sy, I'm sorry." He cautiously rubbed my arm to comfort me – I was surprised him touching me didn't feel wrong. I looked up at his face again – he was sad for me. See, he did care.

My face must have softened because he grew the confidence to pull me in for a hug. It was what I needed. I wasn't going to cry anymore – I didn't know if I had any tears left. But I was sad and his arms around me provided some comfort. He gently played with the hair on the back of my neck as he ran his fingers up and down it. I could feel the warmth of his body through his jumper, the tenderness with which he held me close to him. It warmed my heart a little. No – this wasn't hate.

* * *

He was sat forward on the sofa, his hands wringing, stressed. A few minutes had passed since our embrace – he'd asked me if I was OK. I'd flopped onto the sofa, frustrated – not with him, with our situation – tired, exhausted. He'd sat down too but was agitated.

Finally he spoke.

"Sy, we can't just... we've got to make some positive steps. I can't stay in some regressive state forever, lamenting the fact we're not together when we should be." He twisted round to look at me. "We should be."

He got up and offered out his hand. "Come to mine. Just... let's just be together tonight – and if it feels really wrong, then so be it, but I'm exhausted. I want to go to bed but I want you to come with me. I hate sleeping alone these days; it means I'm not sleeping with you."

"What's the point, Christian? Every time we try, something gets in the way."

"Well, don't let it be us. Sy, that you told your parents, I'm really pleased. And I'm really proud. Well, let me play my part. Let me take tomorrow off, help you move."

"I don't want you trekking all the way to Walthamstow. The house: it's not the sort of place I'd like to invite you into."

"Walthamstow? No, Sy, I meant mine."

"Yours?"

"Ours."

I looked at him, not sure if I'd heard him right.

He pulled me up from the sofa, brought my hand up to his face and kissed it. "Ours."


	16. Chapter 16

We were in bed. It had been odd to come back – last time I'd been here... I just wanted to forget about it. But this was nice. Normally, if we were going to bed, Christian would be kissing me, touching me, undressing me. But this time, he just climbed into bed. He didn't take off his shorts – I think for my benefit, to not seem so... sexual, I guess. I got down to my shorts too and got in. It was cool in the flat – Christian got hot easily. I guess with so much of him to generate heat... but I was always cold and he would normally stick on the heating. I guess he hadn't expected me here with him tonight.

I was cold again, I wanted to snuggle up, but I didn't know now. I didn't know how we were, what stage we were at, what state we were in. He was on his side, facing me, propped up on his elbow.

"Sy?"

"Yeah?"

"You gonna stay over there?"

I shuffled backwards over to him and once I was near enough, he grabbed me and brought me in close to him. I loved him spooning me, just feeling enveloped by him, protected, safe, comforted. I loved the way his body was always warm.

Almost immediately his hand was off wandering. I squirmed to give him the hint although he assumed I was playing.

"Christian," I warned – but he liked that sort of thing. "I mean it."

He chuckled in my ear. "Don't worry, I was just checking you were really here."

I took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm here."

* * *

I woke up to the smell of clean sweat, of man. My eyes still shut, I felt Christian's lips trail down my neck before he attacked it playfully, grazing his teeth along my skin gently.

"Stop it," I said, grinning widely. I opened my eyes and saw his smiling face over me, his bare chest glistening. "Where've you been?"

"I moved you in."

"What?" I looked past him and could see my stuff piled up behind the sofa. "I still have to paint that wall."

"Done."

"Oh my god, you did that?"

"Yeah. So do I get my reward now?"

"You know, you shouldn't do things just to get something in return," I said wryly.

He grinned. "Then what's my punishment?"

* * *

Whilst Christian slept off his punishment, I decided to put my stuff away. He was a sweetheart. Whilst I'd been blissfully sleeping well into the afternoon, he'd cleared some wardrobe space in the back room – or his walk-in wardrobe, as he called it proudly – and some space in various cupboards/drawers around the flat for my various things. I was putting some things in a drawer when I found a book he'd forgotten to take out. A photo fell out – one of his mother when she was younger; she looked beautiful, she must have been fresh out of school. I was glad to come across it because he often spoke of her with a mild disdain that I always hoped was half in jest. Now I knew, he must love her.

I slipped the photo back in the book before continuing to put my things away. When I'd finished, I climbed back into bed, my cold skin waking Christian.

"Sorry."

"Never be sorry for getting into my bed," he grinned.

"_Our_ bed," I corrected him.

"Nah," he chuckled. "This is _my_ bed because I'm the boss of what goes on in here."

"Okay, boss," I said, indulging him.

"And you're going to have to order a pizza or something."

"Right..."

"Cos we're gonna need to eat after this."

He flipped me over and, like always, I was half impressed, half embarrassed by how easily he could throw me over. I struggled against him but as ever, he won out. I looked behind me at him and smiled.

"Pass me the phone." ... "Hi, can I order...?" Christian had clearly decided to make this phone call as difficult and embarrassing for me as he could, just so he could get off on it. I had to repeat the address three times because he was massaging and penetrating me with lubey fingers having pinned me down so I couldn't stop him. As I was finishing the call, he softly growled at me to make him come knowing he could be heard down the phone. Needless to say, I hung up before the pleasantries of a thank you or goodbye.

* * *

"Was he hot?" Christian asked.

"Are the pizza boys ever hot around here?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"They're all a bit skinny, like you. Must be getting shagged an awful lot in place of meals."

"Skinny?"

"Slim then, you whiny sod. Anyway, I like skinny boys" – I shot him a look – "called Syed." He grinned because for Christian, it was okay to be naughty as he knew it was part of his charm. I loved it really, even though I always pretended not to. He saw right through me though. He usually did.

We ate our pizza from the place Christian had on speed-dial – for which I always teased him – and he went to brush his teeth.

"Erm..." came his voice from the bathroom.

"What?" I called back, unsurprised that he'd found something wrong.

He came back in. "You've moved some things about."

"You didn't leave me any space for my things."

"I left you..."

"Half a shelf, yes, very generous."

"Well, how much stuff do you have?"

"Hang on, it's mostly shaving stuff - it takes up quite a lot of room. It's not like the excessive creams and masks and things you have!"

I got up to help Christian arrange our things in some sort of way which was satisfactory to him. He was a bit obsessive-compulsive about these things which, on the one hand, made him nice and tidy but on the other, made him a bit of a nightmare sometimes.

We found a solution eventually, after a lot of moaning on his part, and settled down to watch some TV. He'd comment every now and then but I wasn't really watching. I was still in awe of the fact that I actually lived here now, that this was actually my home. And it felt like home, snuggled up with Christian who was all chirpy, breathing him in and just coming to terms with the fact that this was my life now.

I envisaged things getting in the way, obstacles to overcome, my parents never coming to accept this, and that made me sad. But to know that all that I would go through I would now go through with Christian at my side, to help me, comfort me, give me strength, I couldn't think of a way I'd rather spend my life.

I kissed his cheek.

"Christian?"

"Mm?" he said, giving me his full attention.

"We're... okay now, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smiled.

"You trust me?"

"...Yeah, course." But the pause had been too long, the smile too contrived and he'd looked straight back to the TV. I got up from the sofa and went to the back room, slinking down the wall, just wondering what on earth I could do to fix this underlying mistrust that would see us break. I was annoyed somewhat. I thought we'd gotten over this.

I was at at loss. I kept looking at the drawer with the book in it, wondering whether it would give me any answers. Then Christian walked in.

"Sy?"

I stood up, my face upset still. He put his arms around me and held me tight.

"What's up, you silly sod?" he said, sympathetically.

"Don't you trust me, Christian?"

"What?"

I buried my head in his chest, lovingly. I didn't need or want to say it again. I just wanted him to hold me and tell me sincerely that we were okay now.

He ran his fingers through my hair – it was bliss once I allowed myself to ignore the issue at play. I breathed him in, intoxicated by his scent. I wanted more. I didn't even take a second to look at him before I kissed him; hard, hungry. He enforced a rebalance of power and slowed it down – hot, wet, firm. I was so turned on, I just wanted him there and then, further inside me than ever. It was a violent lust – I wanted it to overpower me.

I crashed to the floor and took him with me, me on my hands and knees, him behind me, me pushing him into me – no lube, no foreplay, nothing to ease us in – just unadulterated pleasure that burned and hurt and thrilled me.


	17. Chapter 17

I woke up, sore, aching, frustrated. Christian had left for work – I felt him kiss me before he left but it didn't put right last night. I was regretful, disgusted with myself slightly. I'd wanted him, his physicality, but not more than I'd wanted to talk. Yet I had been the one to instigate sex, I'd betrayed myself. I couldn't figure out why – perhaps I was frustrated that I didn't know how to get him to talk. I had started to figure this out about him – that if he didn't want to talk about something, he wouldn't. But that did me no good now. Why didn't he trust me? I'd told my parents, I'd moved in with him, I'd spoken only with the implication that this was my life and my future now. Beyond signing a contract, I really didn't know...

I massaged where my wedding ring had been. Was it a crazy thought? It would be a pledge, not a proposal – or, well... in fact, I didn't know what would become of this gesture. I was still married to Amira, and... it would be Godless. Mm, no, I don't know if that's something I want to do. There's got be a way of showing him I'm committed without opening that can of worms – our conflicting ideas regarding faith needn't cause a clash between us. We've survived thus far.

I thought more as I showered and breakfasted – nothing would come to me. Everything seemed so over the top but then more normal ideas just didn't seem enough. I had to make a statement, one of intent, and the thing's I'd done so far – things I'd thought were huge – hadn't confirmed anything for him.

I decided to go into town and see if I could get any inspiration, but the more I walked and the more time that passed, the more frustrated I got. Why was the onus on me anyway? I'd made great steps, grand gestures – what had he done apart from move me in? How much commitment had he shown? If anyone was questionable, it was him, not me.

Urgh, I hated thinking that way. What was wrong with me? I checked my watch, Christian was due home in a while. I wanted to be there when he got back – I was always excited to see him.

* * *

I kept some lentils on a low heat and made sure the flat was spotless. I was just getting some plates out when I heard the key in the lock.

"Hi Christian!" I called, whilst I put the plates on the side and gave our dinner a final stir.

"Hello daaarling!" he replied, as camp as could be. I heard him come over and felt his arms wrap around me from behind. "I've been thinking of you," he said naughtily before kissing my cheek. I was embarrassed by how excited I was to have his big arms around me but as I wasn't facing him, I let myself grin from ear to ear.

"How was your day?"

"Verrry exciting – serving the same drinks to the same people. There's nothing avant garde about Walford, is there?"

"Would you like to get away? For a holiday or something?"

"Sitting on a goldmine, are you?"

"Tomorrow you'll come home to a man with a job."

"That easy, hey? Although I don't know who could resist you," he said, nuzzling my neck, his hands creeping under my shirt to touch my chest.

"Christian... let me serve up." But my protests were always lame when I smiled through them. He turned me round and kissed me, me feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. I suspected he loved the effect he had on me as much as I did though.

"Come on, Christian. This'll never get eaten otherwise."

* * *

We were sitting entwined on the sofa having finished our meal. I was so happy, I couldn't fathom why I'd gotten so worked up before. We were great.

Christian squeezed my knee. "Let's go out tonight."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, let's have a couple of drinks somewhere in town."

"Okay. Where do you want to go?"

"I know some places," he said, grinning.

"Where? Why are you smiling like that?"

"No reason."

He was so smug. I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

"We should have a nap or something before we go out. Don't want you fading on me."

"I've got plenty stamina."

"I wasn't talking about that." He grinned, nudging me.

"You're incorrigible."

He kissed me playfully, then seriously, drawing me in. I resisted just for the sake of making him want me even more and then gave in, being totally pliable for him, letting him strip me, flip me, fuck me.

* * *

"You look _hot_," he exclaimed, positively. I felt hot, I'd made an effort. I was also incredibly nervous. I knew he was talking about going to a gay bar. I'd been to one once, in Leeds, but it was with some straight friends and I'd given them my undivided attention, intimidated by the possibility of a knowing or flirtatious look coming my way.

This time I was going with a man, a gay man, my boyfriend. People would know I was gay just because I was there with him. And I didn't know if he had any expectations of me, of how I should behave.

I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want him to think I wasn't comfortable with being with him, with being gay. He could be quite sensitive about it, take it personally, and I knew that it contributed to any lack of trust there may be on his behalf. I didn't think he would be pushing for this sort of thing so soon though. If I was honest with myself, perhaps I wasn't ready.

But there he was smiling away at me, beaming at me and making me feel more comfortable and more pressured at the same time. He came over and hugged me – he smelt wonderful. Lost in his scent, I wanted to make him happy. I wanted him to know that I meant this, that we were a couple for the long-haul. I loved seeing him happy and he was right now. And so was I.

"So where are we going?"

"We'll start off in a Dutch place I know."

"Should I fear the worst?"

He laughed, thinking I was joking, but I actually wanted to know. A Dutch place? I didn't know much about Dutch culture but I knew they were very liberal in some ways. I had an image in my head of a club packed full of half-naked men in fetish gear. I swallowed.

He brushed the hair away from my eyes and smiled. His lips met mine, caringly, protectively. I soaked up the sensation and with my lips, asked for more. Our mouths wrestling each other, my hand brought his body in close to mine. I was turned on; the smell of him, the taste, the feel of him pressed up against me.

He pulled back, let go and smiled naughtily.

"What?" I said.

His smile widened. "Come on, let's go."

"But..." I protested, confused.

"If you want me, you're gonna have to have me out there..."


	18. Chapter 18

_Apologies for the wait. The few remaining chapters are now story-lined and should be published a few days apart maximum like usual. As per, the whole story shall be up before the end of the black hole (9th July). Enjoy. _

_

* * *

_

We exited the tube at Leicester Square. Yep, we were Soho-bound. It was nice to be out with Christian though, just chatting, laughing. As we walked, I saw various gays pass us, some hand-in-hand, some being loud. I noticed a guy clock Christian, give him the eyes as he walked past us – the cheek! Is this what tonight was going to be like?

We turned into a lane and Christian slowed.

"Here we are!" He smiled but I couldn't catch the tone as he escorted me inside. It was a pub, normal-looking. There was a table available and I grabbed it whilst Christian got our drinks. I looked around – there didn't seem to be many (if any) gay people, just men and women, most dressed well. An after-work crowd.

When Christian came over with the drinks, he still had this smile on his face, like he was waiting for something.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yeah. It's not what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Something more in-your-face."

"Come off it," he teased. His smile became familiar again, relaxed. "I've been coming here for years. Thought it'd be a place you might like too."

"Yeah, I do. But it's not..."

"Gay? No." He smiled like he'd duped me. "Thought we'd do a little tour of non "in-your-face" places tonight."

"But why? I thought, if we were going to come here...?"

"You'll see plenty of 'gay', don't worry. If you want to check out the boys..." He winked and I rolled my eyes.

"No. I just thought... y'know." I'd thought he was going to tip me in head first, wall-to-wall topless men packing out a club with an 'anything goes' policy.

"Relax, Sy." His hand came towards my thigh but then changed direction and rested on his own as he took a sip of his drink. I took a full swig of mine.

* * *

We left for the next place. My eyes were looking here, there and everywhere; street names, bars, theatres, people. It was wonderment really; this was a part of Christian. It was intimidating in a way because he obviously felt an affinity with these people, this lifestyle, this ambience. And I couldn't. I felt odd that there was this whole other side to Christian – one I didn't really know at all. I didn't know whether that was down to me or him.

But I was in good spirit – I think I was talking more than him! He took me to a restaurant-bar and treated me to a couple of delicious virgin cocktails. Christian was starting to get a bit tipsy towards the end but I was enjoying myself – I was still so thrilled to be with him, and it helped to be away from the prying eyes of everyone back home.

When we did get home, Christian had barely shut the door behind him before I was ripping his shirt off, kissing him, desperate for him. I wanted to be inside him, for us to be one but he wrestled with me, sexually, aggressively, as we stood inside his doorway, pinning me against the wall, filling me as he bit into me, choked me. I could feel him, god I could feel him. It was just enough yet not enough – I encouraged more, I couldn't breathe, there! There.

* * *

I woke to find Christian had left already. I wanted to see him before I went job-hunting, just to get myself a bit giddy and start the day with a positive mental attitude. I got ready and went to the Vic – I wish I hadn't. As soon as I walked in, I felt stared at, the chatter turn to whispers, Roxy Mitchell's glare.

I hadn't been out and about really since I'd returned, for this reason precisely. I didn't like the attention, much less when it was because they all knew I was gay, that I'd been unfaithful to my wife, that I was involved with Christian. I felt people accepted him, he worked there, he served them, it was no problem. But when it came to me, they saw man who was less of a man, who went for brawn for brawn's sake – it was embarrassing. And they saw a cheat, a liar – the lowest of men. I felt dirty, felt judged from all quarters. I needed to find Christian and get out of here.

I walked up to Roxy, her face unwelcoming.

"Where's Christian?" I asked her timidly.

"He's not working today."

"Oh." I faltered and then turned and left as quickly as I could without running. I stood outside the Vic breathless, panicky. I needed to see him more than ever. Where was he? If he wasn't working, why had he left?

I went immediately to the caf and there he was, sat at a table with Jane. He looked miserable.

He was talking quietly but Jane replied in her usual carrying voice; "Why don't you tell him?"

"Like I can say anything!" he said, just as loud, exasperated. Were they talking about me?

He looked up, noticed me, so did she. He looked at Jane and then the table. I stood caught in two minds for a moment and then decided to leave.

I wasn't five yards from the caf when I felt Christian's hand on my wrist.

"Wait, Sy."

I wriggled free of his grip. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. Were you trying to find me?"

I looked at him, annoyed that he wouldn't tell me what was up, that he was trying to change the subject. It was clearly about me, they'd stopped talking as soon as they saw me. I wasn't an idiot. Did he think I was?

"What can't you tell me?"

"Sy, really, it's best left alone. Trust me," he added.

"Like you do me?"

"What?"

"Come on, Christian. You don't trust me, I know you don't. You think I'll go back on my word."

"No. I don't."

"Then what is it?"

His hand lifted up to touch my face, me immediately aware of our surroundings but remaining still, yet suddenly he threw his hand down, angry or frustrated. "Not here," he said, as he turned and started towards the flat, me following him completely confused.


	19. Chapter 19

We entered the flat – Christian looked like he was battling agitation, trying to calm himself but failing.

"Christian, what's wrong?"

"Okay, just know I didn't want to say anything."

"Tell me."

"All it is... all it is, is that... I'm drowning here. I'm drowning in this, in us."

"What does that even mean?"

"I just feel... I want to support you in this, I'm here for you, no matter what. But I just... I'm finding it hard too." He finally looked up at me. "You know?"

"Yeah, I know. It must be hard. I'm trying."

"I don't wanna pressure you – I know you'll need time. That's always been the case. That's what I told Jane..."

"Do you talk about us to her?" I felt vulnerable now. I hoped he didn't.

"No, of course not. She just wouldn't let it go."

"Wouldn't let what go, though?"

"I've been getting stressed at her lately, just because this is stressful – not because of you."

"Clearly it _is_ me. Why are you stressed? You haven't said anything."

"No, Sy, it's not you at all. It's just... everything, circumstances."

"So all this time you've been miserable and just hiding it from me?"

"No, course not. I'm so happy, over the moon to be with you. I can't even explain what it feels like to go to bed with you, every night. It's... I feel like we've just met. I'm incurable."

"So...?"

"So nothing. That's my point, nothing needed to be said."

I felt like I'd had a completely different conversation to him. Did he think he'd cleared things up? I was so confused.

"But Christian, you said this was stressful, these circumstances... you need to elaborate. Don't act like I don't need to know."

He took my hand and brought me over to the sofa to sit down with him. He sat far forward, looking at the coffee table, his hands wrung together like usual when he was stressed.

"I just feel... like we're not a couple. Like we're something inside this flat and something else outside of it." He paused but I didn't speak. I wanted him to explain. "I know it's not been long since we started up again, I know this is all new and scary territory, I know all this. I'm not expecting miracles. I'm not expecting anything. I wish I didn't feel bad about it. But it's just... I don't know, on some level, I obviously jumped the gun and allowed myself to get excited about the fact you're my boyfriend, for real now. And you are, but it doesn't mean what I thought it would, what part of me thought it would, the part that got carried away with itself, I guess. It's like there's two of me right now – one side that is just like an overexcited puppy and the other which knows our journey, what it took to get here. That knows I have to wait. So, I don't really know what saying any of this achieves because nothing can fix it but time."

It hurt to hear. All this time, I'd been so besotted, so happy, and he'd been miserable. Because of me, because I'm not ready – or I'm not where he is. I felt so... blamed. "Right. So you tell me you're unhappy and I'm supposed to be okay with that? Because I don't care about your feelings, right? This is all a sacrifice for _me_."

"No, of course not. Look, Sy, what I'm trying to say is that really there's nothing to tell. Of course there's gonna be minor stumbling blocks to begin with, that's just..."

"But what do you mean by 'stumbling blocks'? What do you mean 'we don't feel like a couple'?"

"Just... y'know, it's like when we're out, you're scared to touch me. You get nervous whenever I get near you, I can see the panic in your eyes any time I go to do anything that remotely suggests we're together. And it's just stuff I'd do by reflex, I'm not trying to make your life hard. Even benign things, things friends might do. And I can't help but feel a bit hurt by it. I know I shouldn't take it personally but it feels personal when your boyfriend literally flinches at your touch, when he makes you feel like you really could be anyone he's out with. And I know where we are with us – I know it's just how it is for now. I know all this, so..."

I didn't even know what to think or say. What do you say to that? How do you respond to the fact you're to blame for everything? For your partner feeling miserable? I just felt stupid – stupid to have actually thought we were in some amazing place when all along... I didn't even know what was real now, I questioned everything. Had all his smiles, all his words to me... had they been fake? To placate me? Did he think him forgoing happiness for my sake made me feel any good? It made me feel wretched. We were a lie.

I could feel my eyes well up, my throat get caught. Christian put his arm around me but I jumped up from the sofa, took a couple of paces towards the bathroom, just to get away from him. It wasn't okay, how could he pretend it was?

"Don't, Christian. Don't tell me you're not happy with us and then play it down."

He got up, came over to me, embraced me. I tried to wrestle free of him but he wouldn't let me go.

"Get off!"

"No, Sy! You're not listening. Or, like usual, you're only listening to things that sound damning. I'm head over heels in love with you, is what I said. I finally get to be with the man I hold in the greatest esteem, the man I long for even when I'm right next to him – I can't even describe those feelings. For _that_ reason, I'm chomping at the bit for us to be together properly, a proud couple, for you to feel comfortable with me – not to see past the fact I'm a man but to love that I am one, to love that we are men, gay men, in love. I want that so badly because I couldn't love you anymore than I already do. And I'll wait for you because of that. And yeah, sometimes it stresses me out that we can't express ourselves, but wouldn't you be more concerned if it didn't?"

"I don't want to think we're something we're not. To think you've been feeling this way when I thought we were great, it makes me feel stupid. It makes me feel selfish."

"You're not stupid, or selfish. You're kind and sweet and funny. You care about people and you want to see the best in them. And you're gorgeous! Please, Sy, this isn't a big thing. It's new to me too, this. I have things to learn too, that I need to keep seeing the bigger picture, which is you and me together – against the odds. It's you and me, Sy."

He smiled, amazed at it, that we were... a couple, partners, boyfriends. It had been a long journey, yes, and it wasn't over. But we were with who we wanted to be with. I still felt wary, that he'd not had the confidence (in me?) to express this to me, how he was feeling. That it took someone else to encourage it. But then honesty hurt – that was the point of all this really. Honesty had hurt Amira, it had hurt my family, it had hurt me, him – but more than the lies?

"Promise me, Christian – we're in this together. I don't want you speaking to Jane about it, you should say it to me. And if I get upset then calm me down. Because _you can_."

He stroked my cheek, tucked my hair behind my ear.

"You said honesty, Christian."

"I know. It's just, the last thing I want you thinking is that I'm unhappy. That would be to misrepresent me completely, what I feel for you."

"For what it's worth, words do you no justice either."

"That's worth everything."

I smiled for the first time since this morning. His face still serious, he kissed me – hot, wet, perfect. I pulled him into me, needing to feel him, properly, but then I pulled back.

"No, Christian, I always do this."

"What?"

"I fall into sex with you when we haven't resolved things."

"What's not resolved?"

He took advantage of my pause to start kissing me again, me almost getting sucked back into it again but I showed resolve.

"I need to know what I can do, or what can be done, to put things right."

"They _are_ right."

"I mean happy. Totally happy," I added to stop him finding a loophole.

"Come on, Sy, don't pretend stuff isn't getting your back up too. I know you miss your parents, for example. I know you're missing all that."

I'd been trying to put them to the back of my head. "Yeah, well... they made their feelings clear. I'm not welcome."

"And that's that, is it?"

"I don't have a choice." I could feel a bubble in my throat now. "I can't lose both of you." My eyes filled with tears that begged to fall. My head dropped onto Christian's shoulder, my tears soaking his t-shirt through.

"Would it be too gay to quote from Jerry Maguire and say you had me at 'hello'?"

I hit him playfully for making me laugh. "I hate you," I said, grinning.

* * *

We were naked, Christian over me, my legs resting on his shoulders. His fingers were sinking into me, slowly, going as deep as they could, making me feel every detail of them. He'd needed to break me in gently tonight – my mind had been fixated on what I could do to stop him hurting, I hated to inflict that pain. But right now, he'd taken my mind off that. I was relaxed, feeling so at one with him. His fingers left me and he started rubbing himself, moistening himself with the lube which was still on his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. My breathing stuttered at the sight of him, this beautiful man.

He slid slowly inside me, his face coming to within inches of mine as I felt him deeper and deeper within me. Everything was in slow-motion, I'd lost all concept of time. Our surroundings went black and all I could see was him, his face, his chest, his arms. Each thrust was drawn out, each breath of his enticed me more. I was more passive than I'd ever been, I just couldn't move, couldn't speak, I was so lost in him.

My eyes began to flicker, I could taste him in the air. My cheeks clenched around him, drew him up inside me, my hands gripped his arms tighter and tighter, his breaths, his moans, were louder, sounds left me... each vein, each artery, capillary, expanded letting the blood rush through, my head get light, my body feel weightless. I could feel myself shake beneath him, convulse, my eyes roll back behind my closed lids... And again I was breathing, heavy, laboured, my body stopped tensing, my eyes opened and beheld the man I loved more than anything, anyone, any moment.

I swallowed. The sheets were soaking, our bodies soaking. I licked my lips, I could taste the salt – I wanted him. He pulled out and crashed down beside me, his chest heaving, dripping. I lay over him, kissed him, tasted him.

I knew that anything, _anything_, which happened now would never win over this. This would keep us together through whatever life threw at us, because this was better than life itself.


	20. Chapter 20

_Last chapter, guys. Hope you've enjoyed the fic and that it helped you cope with the black hole. _

* * *

"What was that all that about?"

"Forget it."

"No, Christian, stop hiding things from me."

I'd just seen Christian arguing with my parents in the street - there was a huge scene, lots of on-lookers. It looked nasty, vitriolic, but they'd broken it off before I could get close enough to hear. It was horrible even if I didn't know the details, how it started. All I knew is that my parents had walked off, Christian ambled towards me not noticing I was there until I called his name. We walked back to the flat together but he wouldn't explain anything - he was seething.

"You've got enough on your plate," he said, pouring himself a whisky.

"What is it, Christian? You don't think I can cope? I'm not a child."

He took a gulp of his drink, no intention of speaking.

"Fine!"

I stormed out of the flat to go straight to the caf. My parents wouldn't talk to me but Jane might. I couldn't understand why Christian chose to exclude me from things, why he thought he knew best by keeping the reality from me when it was him, after all, that had this 'honesty' mantra. It was so hypocritical.

* * *

When I got to the caf, Jane was there, thankfully.

"Jane, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, one second." She finished serving and sat down at a table with me. "What's wrong?"

"It's Christian. He's just had a big argument with my parents and..."

"Another one?"

"What? He had one before?"

Jane sighed and pondered for a moment. "Have you spoken to him?"

"He won't say anything – I only know because I saw them in the street, drawing attention to themselves."

She rubbed my arm with her thumb. "You need to talk."

"But he won't tell me! No one will. Can't you say, please?"

"I'm not even sure I know it all. All I know is that Christian went to see them a while back and since then, things have gotten pretty.. sour."

"When did he go to see them? Why?"

"I don't know, a week or so ago? He said he went over to try and make things better but I think he ended up making things worse – don't ask me how – and now it seems to have escalated into... oh, I dunno. It's a mess."

I exhaled forcefully. "And he thought I didn't have the right to know any of this?" I said angrily.

"Oh, Syed, please don't get cross with him. I think he was just trying to protect you."

"From _what_?"

"You know how it is. We are the only ones allowed to criticise the people we love, and all that. I think, as well, that he doesn't want to you to get caught up in it."

"How can I not be caught up in it? It's my parents and my..."

"Go and talk to him, Syed. He will open up eventually."

I remained dubious. That this was going on was upsetting in itself, but the fact it was going on behind my back... did they really all see me as a child? Too young and innocent, too stupid to be let in? The whole thing had put me in a seriously bad mood. I just hoped Christian had calmed down.

* * *

I entered the flat to find Christian sat at the table, his bottle of whisky considerably less full than it was before. This wasn't going to help.

"Where'd you go?"

"To see someone who has a little more faith in me than you do."

"Not your parents then..."

"Oh _fuck off_, Christian!"

"Well, enlighten me then..." His tone was sarcastic, infuriating, but I was too worked up to leave the conversation til a better time. I knew we could fight tonight but I was impatient to know the truth.

"Your sister. And she told me," I continued ignoring his scoffing, "what's been going on with you and my parents. That you've been arguing. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't wanna know, Sy."

"Well I _do_ want to know, so tell me. What's this all about?"

I grudgingly tolerated his huge gulp of whisky to finish his glass because his face then relaxed into a smile – a sad smile, haunting almost - but he looked beautiful. He got up and took both my hands in his, lightly rubbing my palms with his thumbs. His eyes never left mine as he pressed down into my palms and squeezed my wrists. Reassurance? Letting his gaze fall, he led me to the sofa.

"Sy, I've had my reasons not to tell you, mainly that you're too good for this, what's been going on."

"Don't patronise me," I pleaded.

"I'm not. It's just, it's gotten really... ugly, dark. I haven't wanted to upset you with it all – this isn't easy for you anyway, even without all that."

"Jane said you went round to see them."

"Yeah," he laughed. "It seems stupid now but I thought I could do something for your relationship. I thought if I went round there with a cool head, explained things properly, they might, I dunno, be more open to listen to you, to reconcile with you. Next day, I had the police round, treating me like a criminal, turning my flat upside down – turns out they'd had an anonymous tip-off that I had drugs in the flat."

"Mum and dad?"

"They _hate_ me, Syed. They wanna see me dead or banged up."

"I'm sure they don't, Christian," I said reassuringly.

"I'm not hypothesising." He looked at me, confirmation in his eyes, sorrow. "I could take it before but... it's constant now. It's ridiculous."

"Take what?"

"Oh, y'know..."

"No. I don't."

"They say stuff about you... just cos they know it gets to me. I wouldn't want to repeat it. And they say stuff about me, too. Today, they called me a rapist – right there in front of loads of people, they shouted it. I can't... I just can't anymore."

His voice broke and tears came streaming down his face, he was visibly shaken. I took his hand in some pathetic attempt to comfort him but I was barely of any use in that moment, I was in shock. I had no idea things had gotten this far – it was absolutely unforgivable. My thoughts hadn't organised themselves in the time it took Christian to stop crying so hard. He eventually let go and poured himself some more whisky to calm himself. He must have got through half a bottle by now.

"Before you came back," he continued, trying to steady his voice, "your father, he saw me, in the street after what Amira's dad had done. He did nothing. I was bleeding and he walked away, left me there, alone, terrified," he said, his eyes growing wide, scared. "He'd rather I was dead than with you, Sy. And up until now, I've wanted you to be able to reconcile your relationship with your parents because I know what they mean to you. But now, they've reached the point where they're so full of hate, I would actually be scared for you to be in contact with them. They speak of you in such vile terms, Sy," he said amidst more tears. "And I'd have rather you not known, but... I'll never forgive them."

It was too much, his sobbing was uncontrollable. I brought his soaking face into my chest and held him, half distraught myself by his reaction, half still unable to compute this information. My parents now sounded like people I didn't know, didn't want to know. It was one thing not to like Christian, not to support us, but to call him... that... Tears were falling silently down my cheeks – it was starting to sink in, little-by-little. The gravity of this.

Christian gulped, his crying having subsided.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

My mouth made some sound of acknowledgement that let him know it wasn't his fault. That's all my brain could manage right now.

"I've been so worried about saying anything. It must be so hard to hear that about your family."

"Family," I laughed, cynically. I looked into his bloodshot eyes, then kissed him, his lips timid but grateful recipients - the normally unpleasant flavour of salt-tears mixed with alcohol making me fall instantly in love with it, for I now associated it with the heightened feelings I had for Christian in this moment. "That's you."

* * *

I watched the blood come to the surface of the skin on Christian's back where I'd scratched him, provoking me to moan loudly. Christian immediately gave a shout of pleasure and pushed back into me so I was deep inside him. Words now came readily from his mouth, telling me exactly how he wanted it, calling my name, asking for more, teasing me by cooling it down every so often so that our pleasure could last. How bitter sweet it was for an impatient body like mine.

Biting down into his shoulder, he couldn't play with us anymore. Now it was solely powerful, driven, exhilarating. It was the last indulgence.

I could feel the pleasure start to rise up in me as I took those last few thrusts inside Christian. His hand was pushing me in so far as he tightened to keep me there, I felt him on every inch. My hand which had been rubbing him became copiously drenched whilst I could feel my own come coat the inside of him, coat me.

As my pleasure died down, I pulled out but stayed laying over him as he turned over to face me. His eyes penetrated me more than I'd ever known, making love charge through my body, overwhelming me. My body wanted to cry but the tears stayed in, although my body shook. How did he do it?

He brought my face down to his and kissed me so perfectly, it was brilliant but scary all at once. I felt compelled to cut it short lest my body not cope.

He smiled.

"I love you, Sy. With every bead of sweat, with every ounce of me."

"I just can't explain it – that's why I had to show you."

He smiled again the most perfect smile, I was touched. But then he looked at me with a seriousness in his eye. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, them losing you. You must be devastated."

"Upon learning the extent of who they are, yes. But I've found comfort in you, in what you've done for me."

"It's just... I know how much family means to you."

"Maybe I've found something that matters more."

...

* * *

THE END

* * *

_Dedicated to tolerance. Spread the word. _


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